Falling Down
by SixesandSevens
Summary: When tragedy strikes can the group help Daryl cope?
1. Chapter 1

_AN: I know, I haven't updated Thicker Than Water, and here I am posting another story! But I promise that TTW is not abandoned, and I do apologize for the wait on it._

_This is a fill for a prompt over on LJ asking for Daryl to have a breakdown. This is AU in that the farm never got overrun so they're still staying there, also Shane's still alive and Randall's not a factor in this. Anyway that's all very sidline to this story._

_Enjoy! :)_

It'd been over a month since they'd lost Carol, and Daryl still had yet to speak a single word since her death. When Sophia came out of that barn no one expected Carol to take it well, but she'd handled it better than anyone would have expected. At first. As time passed it became apparent she was sinking into a pit of despair. When they moved into Hershel's house she and Andrea were given the spare bedroom to share, it was only a few days before she stopped getting out of bed altogether. Try as they might, no one could pull her from this depression. Daryl seemed to be the only one left she would respond to just before it happened; everyone knew Daryl and Carol shared some kind of bond. The level of the two's relationship was the source of much speculation, but whatever it may have been was their own business. Daryl had really thought he'd been getting through to her, everyone had. But they were all wrong.

The day it happened started out like any other. Before going hunting, Daryl would come to her room to check on her. He'd make sure she ate something and encourage her to get up and around, then he'd leave her in Lori, Andrea and Maggie's care until he got back. He'd come home and hand his catch over to Glenn and T-dog who'd taken up the task of skinning and cleaning his kills for him before checking on Carol again to find her still in bed, having eaten nothing since he'd left. On this day, however, when he entered her room he froze momentarily before flying into a panic. Where the _hell_ was Carol? A sick feeling settled deep in his gut. God he was such an idiot! What the fuck was he thinking, leaving her in Lori's hands; she couldn't keep and eye on her own goddamn son! What the fuck made him think she could watch Carol? Rational thoughts failed him. All he knew was Carol was missing and someone was going to have to answer for that.

"Lori!" He shouted, bolting from the room and down the hall. He was gonna kill that woman! Where the hell was she? "Lori!"

"What?" Lori appeared around the corner so suddenly Daryl nearly plowed into her. The look on her face changed from questioning to somewhat fearful, probably because the look on his face was more or less murderous.

"Where the hell is Carol?" the words came out more growl than inquiry. At that she smiled at him, the damn woman had the nerve to fucking _smile_ at him! But the words that left her mouth next were so damn relieving that he wouldn't have cared if she'd spit on him.

"Oh, she got up." Lori answered simply with a grin.

"What?" That's certainly not what he'd expected. Had things gotten so bad that he hadn't even considered that possibility when Carol's room had been empty? Had he given up hope on her?

"I know," Lori went on smiling, "I was surprised myself, but an hour or so ago she got up to take a shower. I'm so glad, too. I know she's still got a lot of healing to do, but this is a great first step."

"Yeah." Daryl agreed. He turned to leave when a new thought struck him, and he spun back to Lori. "Wait! You said it's been more than an hour, and she's still in there? Shouldn't she be out by now?"

"Well, probably, I guess. I just figured she was taking her time." Seeing that wasn't good enough for Daryl she suggested they go check on her.

"Carol?" Lori called through the door. When she received no response she added a knock and called again. Still no success. "Maybe she'll answer you."

"Carol?" Then as if she needed explanation he added, "It's me, Daryl." Silence was his only answer.

"Come on, Carol. You've been in there a long time. You alright?" He was getting frustrated, that sick feeling twisting his gut again, when he heard Lori gasp. He looked over at her then followed her stricken gaze to the floor. Blood was beginning to seep under the door.

"Carol!" He screamed, throwing his body into the door three times before crashing through to find her. Regaining his footing all he could do was stand there motionless, scowling down at her in shock. He'd seen death enough times to know. There was no need to check. She sat there before him propped up against the wall listing to the side, dead eyes staring blankly, skin devoid of color save for the blinding red where the blood stained it. It leaked from the gashes she'd carved in her arms, from the crook of her elbows to her wrists, dripping down onto the floor to pool around her and slowly creeping along the floor where it'd just now made it to the doorway.

Vaguely he registered Lori scream, the others flocking to the sound and crowding around the scene. There were people talking to him and asking him things, but he didn't acknowledge them. Then something terrible happened. She came back to life before his eyes, but not really; she was one of _them_. Snarling and grabbing, horrible growling sounds bubbling up out of her. There was a collective sense of shock that seemed to paralyze everyone. That is until she lunged for Rick who happened to be crouched in front of her. This unlocked them all, with the exception of Daryl. He just continued to watch passively as Shane pulled Once-Carol away from Rick and Andrea shot her in the head, painting the wall with gore. He watched her body fly back and fall to the floor, stilling for the final time.


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: This chapter is admittedly very short, I'll make up for that with the next chapter._

At first they'd thought he just needed some time. That once he'd had a chance to grieve a bit he'd revert back to his same gruff and standoffish manner, even while managing to be very much a part of them. But when two weeks had passed and Daryl remained mute and unresponsive to any attempts at interaction it became clear something needed to be done.

This proved difficult, if not impossible. Daryl had always been unapproachable on one level or the other since they'd met him, but this was something new entirely. There was no talking to him. He'd either just glare in silence, sometimes directly at the speaker or off into the distance, or outright ignore them even going so far as to simply walk away and disappear into the woods for the remainder of the day. He was hunting more and eating less, and whether he slept at all these days was anyone's guess.

Although they'd only known him for the past several months, it could be safely said that this was not like him. Daryl wasn't one to give up, and not taking care of himself belied his innate sense of self-preservation. Not to mention, while Daryl may be a man of few words, he certainly had no qualms voicing his opinion when he had something to say. His continued silence had everyone becoming increasingly worried; they would fret about, tension running rampant through the small group. Once a month went by, they all began to accept the fact that Daryl may never speak to them again. As the days continued on, the unease that had settled over the camp began to dissipate, although they continued to watch him closely, or attempt to at least. He made that no easy task either with his long hunting trips and the glares he cast about so freely.

One sweltering morning, Daryl had gotten up at dawn and headed off for the woods before he'd have to be bothered with attempting to avoid the others. There was really no need for him to hunt today, seeing as just the day before he'd brought down a good sized buck. They'd have enough meat for the next few days, but he didn't let that stop him from going out; he was more fucking off than hunting anyway.

It was a regular enough morning, for the end of the world at any rate, until he heard a child's terrified scream. His heart froze for a moment, his mind instantly going to that place that still searched for Sophia, logic quickly kicked in, he knew the scream hadn't come from her. Of course it hadn't. Couldn't. Then he realized with a start where it had come from. Carl.


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: Sorry for the wait on this, it took longer than expected for me to find the time to sit down and write, I've had so much going on. I hope you enjoy this._

Daryl took off in the direction of the scream, running as he never had before. Another shout rang out urging him to run even faster, terrified he'd be too late. As he ran, he heard a third, much closer cry. He was almost there. _'Run you pussy!'_ He inwardly scolded, urging himself onward, grabbing a thin sapling along the way out of pure instinct, and using it to swing his body around to alter his direction by a handful of degrees. A few yards later, Carl came bursting through the trees, headed straight toward Daryl, three walkers hot on his trail.

"Daryl!" Carl shouted, never slowing his pace, only swerving a bit to be out of the line of fire.

Without hesitation, Daryl shot the walker closest to the boy, the arrow launching into the decomposing ear, as if it were a bullseye. In one fluid motion he swung the crossbow onto his back and pulled out his knife, deftly throwing it right into the skull of the closer of the two remaining threats. He ran at the felled walker, snatching his knife from its decaying body as he passed.

The third walker was nearly on top of him now. In life it'd been a large man, broad with muscles that were in that transition from beefed-up to flab. The kind that all but screams past steroid freak. Now his jaw was completely missing on the left side, only hanging awkwardly by the right. Blackened gore leaking sickeningly from the gaping hole. As the Incredibly-disgusting Hulk lurched toward him, arms grabbing hungrily, Daryl crouched down letting it get alarmingly close before launching back up, thrusting his knife into its temple.

He scanned the area for any more, and seeing none, let his eyes fall on Carl. The boy was pressed into a nearby tree watching him wide eyed and breathless, his features awash with fear and awe. Daryl just glared stonily at him. What business did this kid have running off into the woods on his own? He was going to get himself, or someone else, killed pulling this shit. Surely he would be dead right about now if Daryl hadn't come along when he did. Without removing his angry gaze from Carl's eyes, he strode over to the first walker he'd dispatched, retrieving his arrow with that now-familiar _squelch._ Then silent as ever, he simply pointed in the direction of camp. Carl immediately complied, Daryl falling into step behind him.

* * *

They trudged back to the farm, the tense silence stretched out before them, much like the acres in their path. It seemed to take longer than it should have, but finally they breached the tree line and the farmhouse could be seen in the distance. As they neared, Lori could be heard shouting frantically.

"Carl! He's not here! I can't find him! CARL!"

"He's got to be around here somewhere. We'll just keep looking." Andrea's voice.

"But we've already looked! Besides he would have heard us..." Lori broke off with a sob.

"Mom! I'm here! It's ok!" Carl called out as he took off running.

Daryl let the boy gallop off, and kept his steady pace. He was still pissed and not in any rush to see anyone. Actually he was enraged. It was choking him off, blinding him to all else. Like electricity coursing through him, he was a humming ball of barely contained anger. He was so consumed in his thoughts, he didn't even realize he'd made it to were everyone was surrounding the Grimes family; Rick and Lori hugging Carl and patting him down as if assuring themselves he was real and unharmed.

"I just kept running." Carl was telling his parents. "Just running and running, when all of the sudden, there was Daryl and he saved me."

And just like that, all eyes were on him, all of them with grateful and relieved looks. Some of them even misty. His own eyes, sent daggers to them all. Sure he saved the kid, whoop-de-do, but he shouldn't have been out there in the first place. He should have been in camp, under the supposedly-watchful eyes of his parents.

"Thank god." Rick sent him an appreciative nod, continuing his assessment of Carl's well-being.

Lori was approaching him now, tears running down her cheeks and a joyful little smile playing on her lips. "Thank you, Daryl, so much. You saved my boy. I don't even know what to say. You don't know what this means to us."

Chest heaving with the effort of refraining from simply exploding, Daryl couldn't take it anymore, unleashing his fury. "The hell I don't! Obviously, it don't mean fucking shit!"

If he'd thought they'd been staring at him before, they were really staring now. Between his unexpected outburst and the fact that he'd actually, finally, _talked_ they were amazed. But he didn't let it deter him and kept on. "You don't even look after him! He's out running wild all the damn time, and you'd never know because you barely notice him!And now you're having another! How the hell do you expect to take care of that one," he pointed accusingly at the growing bump of her stomach, "when you can't even mind the one you got?" He was in her face now, just inches from it, and she looked on the verge of hysterics but he didn't care.

"You don't deserve it! You're always pushing him on someone else! Carol was constantly watching him, not you! You had her watch him for you, the day you fucking met her! I know you did, because she told me! What kind of mother are you? You didn't even know the woman, she was a fucking _stranger_ and you left your child in her care!" Daryl sneered coldly at Lori, "It's no wonder you lost him. Carol ain't around no more to keep him for you."

Lori finally burst into sobs at that.

"Daryl, that's..." Rick began before being cut off.

"Shut up, Rick! You may be busy leading this group, but you're at fault too! He's your son too!" Daryl shouted. He spun on his heel, heading away from them, back toward the woods. As he went, he passed by a pile of 2x4s sitting near a tree and bent down to snatch one up. Then he started beating the tree mercilessly with the lumber.

"Ya'll don't deserve it!" He shouted, each word punctuated by a solid _thwack_ of wood against wood. He could feel the stares of the others boring into his back, shock resonating from them. But he just kept going, swinging the 2x4 with all his might.

"Stupid!" _Thwack!_

"Fucking!" _Thwack!_

"Bitch!" _Snap!_ The board snapped in half, the top portion going flying. But Daryl didn't stop, just threw the wood to the side and starting punching the tree trunk in lieu of his makeshift bat.

"Why'd she do it! It ain't right!" It was clear that this tirade was about more than Carl running off on his own. He could hear them screaming for him to stop, hear them advancing on him, but he ignored them. Just kept slamming his fists into the unforgiving bark, slicing his knuckles open.

"She shouldn't have done it! Why?" He could feel his rage giving way to despair, his punches becoming weaker and slower before he let his forehead fall against the trunk.

"Why?" he whispered, choking on his own voice. Unbidden tears began to fall from behind clenched lids, and he slid down the tree to his knees burying his face in his bloodied hands. He couldn't stop it now. A damn had been broken somewhere deep inside him, the grief and pain rushing forth with wild abandon threatening to scoop him up and wash him away.

The whole group just stood there in stunned silence, not knowing what to do, because _Daryl Dixon_ was crying. And not just a few stray tears like when Merle'd been left on the rooftop that fateful day in Atlanta, but deep heaving sobs that wracked though his frame leaving him a shuddering mess crumpled before them.

Daryl, who was their model for badassery. Daryl, who could dispatch a walker with fearless ease. Daryl, who went his own way and didn't care what others thought, but still did right by them. Daryl, who was human too.

When Lori came forward and wrapped him in a hug, he jumped slightly but didn't lift his head. "Daryl, I'm so sorry about Carol." She said softly. He didn't respond to her, but he didn't pull away either.

Rick was at their side now, patting the distraught man's back comfortingly, "Her death was hard on all of us, but I know it was hardest for you. Just know, we're here for you. You can talk to us, Daryl. Just let us in."

Andrea appeared with a damp cloth and bandages, gently she took one of Daryl's hands in her own and began cleaning the raw knuckles. When she'd finished, Glenn bandaged his hand while she moved on to clean the other.

Tears still ran down his face, but he'd quieted. The shuddering sobs, giving way to occasional quiet whimpers. His breakdown was abrupt and intense. No one expected it from him, but it was actually a good sign; he was talking again at any rate. They hovered around ready to give their support and encouragement, Dale and T-dog patting his shoulder with a few kind words at intervals, and Daryl still wrapped in Lori's embrace. After a while he finally stilled, no sound coming from him.

They'd begun to wonder if he'd actually fallen asleep when he finally pulled away, scrubbing his face, and looking around sheepishly. "Sorry about all that. And the things I said. I just, I don't know, I just snapped I guess."

Rick clapped him on the shoulder, "Hey, don't worry about it. We all have our moments. You're entitled."

There was a sense of relief in the air, a closeness that had formed among them all. As though, somehow, Daryl falling apart was a wake up call. This life had gotten to all of them at one point or another, but seeing Daryl implode like that made them realize they couldn't keep pulling away from each other. Daryl looked at them all gathered around him, seeing the acceptance in their eyes and thought that just maybe, with the help of his makeshift family, he could finally begin to heal.


End file.
